Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

Tag Archives: married

The feel of his hand
Holding her hand
As they walk
In the park
Just to be walking
And being together.

For his hand is
Strength, trust, loyalty,
Confidence that he
Is there, by her side.
Has been there
For years and
Promises with
its strength
That it will
Be there, by her side,
For years and years
To come.

A deep bond,
This strength and trust,
For she has
Cried upon his shoulder,
Sought his embrace
When she needed warmth,
Told him secrets she’s
Never told to another,
Welcomed him to do
Things to her that
She’s never
Allowed to another.

Through all of this
The everything of
Ups and downs
Pains and laughter
He is still there
By her side
Holding her hand
With his strong hand.

Four more poems stemming from #fieryverse prompts in the past several days… trying out different scenarios and describing them in an efficient, Twitter-word-count limited way. I’ve found that these prompts are a good stretching of creativity. The prompt is in bold within each poem…

Gathering together
our strength
abounds.
Contentious
sometimes,
but upon parting
until
next time,
we are still
grateful.

*****

Dressed or
in various
stages ofundress,
I believe
she can
see right into
the depths
of me.

*****

There is no
question
of with
or without,
for
I am simply
better
with her.

*****

Maybe
tomorrow
she will leave,
for the
walls reverberate
with his shouts
of abuse
and belittling.

To home after the fireworks, fighting the traffic with everyone leaving the park at the same time, finally making it home, putting the tired kids to bed, and dropping on the couch with a sigh.

Then he kisses her. Doesn’t pick up the TV remote. Doesn’t say for the tenth time what a great fireworks display it was this year. He kisses her.

The kiss starts off slowly. Just a touch, their lips merely saying hello. But he pushes on, past the hello and starting into a dance. She’s surprised, this kiss going beyond his normal. This is closer to his old normal, before he—both of them, really—changed. You could blame the three kids arriving in their lives and changing them completely, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth. Both he and she changed, and that change became the new normal.

Still, his lips push and play and continue to surprise her. She places her hand on his face, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beard stubble. She kisses him back, pleased how his lips want to keep dancing.

It’s a “I know it’s been a long day and we’re tired, but I don’t want to watch TV” kiss. It’s a “I’m sorry for taking you for granted” kiss. It’s a kiss meant to convey love and longing. It’s a kiss meant to wow her, and it succeeds. It’s a kiss with an exploring tongue and his hand on her thigh, underneath her shorts and on the sensitive skin of the inside of her thigh.

It’s a fireworks kiss. A kiss that started like a single line of the rocket flying up into the sky, everyone watching and waiting, then the rocket bursting with brilliant colors and lighting up everyone’s awed eyes. Her eyelids are not wide open, though. They’re half closed to see him so near to her, and then they’re all the way closed to focus more on the feeling, just to feel him and kiss him back.

Their kiss lasts a lusciously long time. The fireworks burst continually now, no need to wait for a pause in the show and see the darkness of the night take over momentarily and see the flight of a new rocket. No, this was a bloom of firework after firework, a constant and vibrant show. And now, leans against her, and she accepts him, leaning back. Lying back on the couch. Him on top of her, not missing a beat of those fireworks kisses as he undresses her and continues in the night’s explosions.

A continuation of my erotic short story that started yesterday. Please know that this piece of erotic ficiton is intended for mature readers who are 18 years and older, as it contains explicit descriptions of sex (the characters are older than 18).

* * * * *

Opening Day, Part 2

Michelle had to chuckle, and she then rolled her eyes. “You think I’ve changed my mind? You really think I’ve changed my mind?”

“Just wondering.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m not going to suck your dick during a game.”

“But you have, though,” Justin pointed out. “A few times.”

Michelle sighed, saying, “Okay, but those were boring games, and we were being blown out. I’m not going to do it during a game I want to watch. It’s not like you’ve gone down on me in a game that you want to watch.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I have gone down on you in games.”

“Yep. But don’t you worry. We’ve still got the seventh-inning stretch.”

“Been lookin’ forward to it.”

When the middle of the seven inning rolled around, they got right into their routine. First, by stripping out of their clothes. Not a slow striptease—but a swift removal of these things in the way. Justin was already hard. He sat back on the couch, legs spread wide. Michelle sat between his legs, with her back to him, and slid back toward him. She was careful not to jam her body against his erection, and he fit it under the crack in her ass. No penetration, but a nestling between her buns. Like a hot dog. In this position on the couch, both of them could easily watch the game.

He reached around her and placed his hands on her thighs, caressing their soft skin. “I wanted to do this when I saw you in that skirt.”

“Your self-restraint is admirable.” She looked down at his hands and hummed “Mmmm” as they neared her vagina. Then she moaned as his fingers reached there.

“Babe,” Justin said, clearly impressed. “You are wet. Seriously wet.”

“You think you’re the only one looking forward to the seventh-inning stretch? It’s been a long winter.”

“But it’s not like we weren’t having sex all winter.” One of his hands stayed on her pussy while his other hand found her boobs and fondled them as Michelle groaned her appreciation. “We had a lot. ‘Specially since we don’t go out as much.”

“Yeah, but it’s not baseball sex,” she clarified.

“Oh, I know how you like your baseball sex.”

“Mmm-hmm. So do you. Slow down, hon. You’re going too fast.”

“Sorry, babe. Little excited.”

“More than a little. I can feel that excitement.” She wiggled her ass, rubbing his cock.

“And you’re gonna get that big excitement in you soon.” He gently pinched her firm nipple, rolling it with his fingertips and thumb.

The following batter hit a hard grounder that got them excited, but the opposing short-stop fielded it cleanly, checked the runner at second base with a swift look, but kept the ball for an extra second since that runner wasn’t going. Then he threw the batter out at first base.

Two strikes came quickly to the next batter, and the tension rose. They gritted their teeth at the third pitch. Ball. Not much relief there, not while being on the precipice of two strikes. Another ball. A tiny bit more relief. A small step back from the edge. Then a mighty swing that sailed through the air, the ball smacking into the catcher’s mitt.

“Fuck!” they yelled again. “C’mon!”

“But, fuck, this is good,” Michelle added, giving another butt wiggle. It was one of her superstitions when they were like this, a little wiggle for good luck. Plus, she simply liked how his hard cock felt nestled down there. She wasn’t a big fan of anal sex, but his cock down there reminded her of her pussy being pounded in doggy-style—which she was a big fan of.

A first pitch strike on the third batter. “C’mon, c’mon!” they encouraged. Both leaned forward. Justin’s finger was busy rubbing circles on her clit. His other hand held her left boob in a firm grip. Another strike.

“This fucker’s aggressive,” Justin snarled.

“Uh-huh,” Michelle agreed. “Oh. Oh. Yeah. Oh.” She ground her hips down, rolling them in tight circles, pushing her butt cheeks on his cock, while pushing her pussy against his finger.

Sure enough, another aggressive pitch down the middle of the plate, meant for strike three. But it didn’t quite make it to the catcher’s mitt. For the bat connected hard with the ball, smashing it deep in the corner of left outfield.

“Go! Go! Go!” they shouted.

They leaned forward even more. His finger rubbed her clit even faster. He gripped her breast even harder.

“Yes!” she shouted as the runner who was on second plate rounded third and sprinted home. She pushed down and lay back against his chest and froze for a second, yelling out “Yes! Oh God, yes! Yes! Fuck YES!” before trembling in the strength of the orgasm.

The batter who smashed the ball made it to second base easily and clapped his gloved hands in excitement. On the couch, Michelle hoisted up, thrust her hand down, gripped his cock, held the tip of it to her pussy, and dropped back down, sinking on his erection as far as she would go.

Her ass thumped down on his lap. “That’s right, baby. We so fucking got this. I got this. I got this fucking cock, and I’m gonna fuck this big fucking cock so fucking hard. I so fucking got this.”

She leaned forward, her hands clutching his thighs. She humped faster this way, and he was transfixed by her ass rising and falling, making his cock appear and disappear deep into her pussy. But the sounds of the game broke the spell, and his attention returned to the TV. A strike to the batter who had the opportunity to drive in a run and cause their team to re-take the lead. The audience in the stands was going wild.

Just like Michelle.

Justin smiled at her. She couldn’t see him smile. All she saw was the wide screen in front of them, her eyes riveted to the action on the baseball diamond. But Justin thought beyond the game. He thought of how this opened up months of excitement for them. Excitement right here on the couch together. The two of them, hot dogs, beer, and baseball on TV.

And many more seventh-inning stretches.

These thoughts brought a bright spot of joy for Justin. Times were tough and lean for them, but they were powering through it. This was a testament to their strength as a couple. They were really fucking good together. He knew this even before the game started, when he was cleaning up the kitchen and grilling the hot dogs, and now he told himself to remember that when he was depressed and angry about being unemployed.

Happy Opening Day! Baseball’s finally back! Here’s a short story about this big day. Please know that this erotic story is intended for mature readers who are 18 years and older, as it contains explicit descriptions of sex (the characters are older than 18). Also, the story contains serious the theme of being laid off from a job and dealing with unemployment, so it’s not simply about sex and baseball. It stretches into how a couple is dealing with the husband being unemployed. I wanted to give the story a little more depth for the characters.

* * * * *

Opening Day, Part 1

Opening day crackled with electric excitement. A new beginning. A new season dawning, with the promise of a multitude of baseball games in the months ahead. Games nearly every single day, something to look forward to after work’s closing whistle.

However, work’s closing whistle had stopped shrieking months before for Justin, as the words “Have to let you go” grunted out of his boss’s mouth. Words that Justin had never heard before. Words he’d always imagined being said to other people. Not with how hard he worked at his job. But his hard work didn’t matter. Not when the factory was closing and another one was already built in another country. A new life dawning for other people in another land far from Justin’s town.

Thus, a new season dawned for Justin and Michelle. Dealing with his unemployment and anger. Hitting the job fairs. Trolling job websites. Thinking of other careers. Figuring a retail job was better than nothing, but not being offered the two positions for which he had interviewed.

Through it all, Michelle was a rock. Worked even harder to ensure her job was as safe as she could make it. But they’d never consider it completely safe. It wasn’t black and white, like a runner sliding safely onto home plate while the throw from left field arrives way too late.

This opening day was much different than past years. Michelle and Justin wouldn’t take off work to go to the stadium and celebrate the big day in person. This year, it would have to be from their couch. Michelle went into the office early and took a half day off, knowing her boss was okay with it, and the work wasn’t busy any way. Still, she put in some time at the office.

When she returned home, the charcoal grill’s smell met her as she opened the car door and walked to their small house. She grinned, thinking how Justin was cooking much more often since being laid off than he ever had before. A silver lining in the storm cloud of his unemployment.

“Hey babe,” Justin called from the kitchen as she entered the house. “Cuttin’ it awful close, aren’t you? I was afraid you’d be late.”

“Just wrapping stuff up,” she said. “I’ll go change and be right back.”

“Hold on. Lemme see you first.”

Hands on her hips, Michelle smirked at him. He had not seen her that morning, since she had left earlier than usual. But then again, he was usually in bed when she left for work. So, she reminded herself to be patient as she indulged his joy of seeing her in office attire. It was something that hadn’t gotten old. And she hoped it never would.

His eyes drank in her skirt and blouse, then he smiled and said, “Niiice,” stretching out the word.

“You’ve seen this a hundred times,” she replied.

“So what? It’s still hot. And I’m looking forward to seeing it again.”

She sighed, waved him off, and headed for the master bedroom of their single-story house. With her back to Justin, he wasn’t able to see her smile. Nope, it still hadn’t gotten old.

“Hurry up!” Justin called out several minutes later. “You’re gonna miss the first pitch!”

“Okay, okay!” She arrived in the living room, sweat pants and t-shirt, and he appreciated how her boobs jiggled without a bra as she hopped on the couch.

Michelle beamed at the spread on the coffee table before her. Two plates, each with two hot dogs. Grill marks across both the dogs and the buns. Two cans of beer. Bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish. All but the beer was store brand. Michelle thought it was a perfect meal for baseball and their finances. Hot dogs certainly weren’t going to break their budget. This was a meal that fit right into the ones that they’d been eating since Justin was laid off. A cutting back they’d had to deal with. And she was proud how well they had rolled with it. A challenge met head-on.

“Looks delicious, hon,” she said. “You’re getting pretty good at this housewife thing.”

Justin frowned at her and popped open a can of beer and took a drink, then said, “Just don’t get used to me cleaning the bathrooms.”

As Michelle popped open her beer, she said, “But hon, I like you doing that. It’s better than that first month.”

He nodded, remembering that shitty first month after not him working. Not pretty at all, it was filled with anger and arguments. As much as cleaning bathrooms sucked, it was better than that month.

He nodded, loving her. “To keeping strong,” he said and tapped his beer can against hers and took a drink.

On the TV, the crowd cheered.

“We missed the first pitch,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

“Who cares?” Justin asked. “We’ve got the rest of the game. To baseball.”

“Fuck yeah,” she replied and toasted baseball with another drink of the cheap beer.

They settled back on the couch, enjoying the game and the hot dogs and the beer. Seeing the game on TV paled in comparison to seeing the game live. They missed the excitement of being in the stadium, of being surrounded by all those fans who were as thrilled as they were for the game. Because this wasn’t just any game. This was the first game. The game that started another season off. It was special. Like the post-season games, but in a different way. Those games were the rush of the race to the end. Opening day’s game was taking that first step on the journey they had looked forward to all winter.

Even though they watched the game on a screen, it was still fun. After all, this was how they watched most games. Even back when both of them had jobs, they couldn’t afford season’s tickets and going to all the home games. Hardly. They had gone to as many as they could afford, though. Which was going to be none this season. But at least they still had the house. At least they had the games on TV. At least they had each other.

And with each other, they cheered the great plays and groaned when their players struck out or when a promising sky-high hit stopped short of the home run fence and was snagged in the glove of the opponent. They certainly had each other, and the enjoyment of the game over beer and grilled hot dogs.

Michelle, still chewing, held up her second hot dog and said, “Now, these are better than at the stadium. They just cook ’em in those oven things that you can see ’em through the glass as they’re lazily turning over and over.”

“They taste good for being part of the place. But doesn’t mean they’re cooked right.”

“Yep,” she agreed.

He watched her for a second before saying, “It’s pretty hot looking at you eat a hot dog, you know that?”

I have a new short story out! “Beware the Ides of March” is an erotic short story about a married couple sampling a little BDSM, with the intense, muscular husband (Grant) as the dominant and the hard-working wife (Laura) as the submissive—but who is certainly no push-over).

Below, I’m offering up a good portion of the story at the beginning. To tease you a bit, you see. But I’m also offering the story for free until Tuesday (March 18). That’s right, baby: FREE. F …R … double E!

You can download the epub file over at Smashwords for free for this limited time. (You may have to click the Adult Content in the blue menu bar at top to view it.) I’m hoping you’ll like it and check out my other ebooks and maybe even tell your good friends about them. (The story is also available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble if you’d rather download it from there; at a low cost of 99 cents.)

First, please know that this short story (7,678 words) is a work of erotic fiction meant for mature readers only who are aged 18 years and older. Characters in this story are older than 18 and engage in consensual sexual intercourse.

The description of the story is:

Beware the Ides of March. In Shakespeare’s play, it was the warning the soothsayer gave to Julius Caesar. And it’s the warning that Laura receives from her husband, Grant, in a text message.
But what does it mean?

Laura has no idea, but puts it to the side as she works hard in her office on a Saturday to finish a big job.

When she returns home, she finds out what the warning means. How it leads to giving up control, feeling the danger and helplessness of giving into Grant’s commands. And by giving into him, feeling the wondrous heights of pleasure that come with it.

And now for a nice, lengthy preview…

* * * * *

BABE: Beware the Ides of March.

Shakespeare? Huh?

The text message from her husband made no sense to Laura. Yes, it was March 15. But why should she—who most certainly was not Julius Caesar—beware of it? She texted that question back to Grant, but he didn’t send back a reply.

Grant wasn’t a Shakespeare guy. Not at all. But then, didn’t everybody know that line from the soothsayer’s mouth to Caesar’s ear? It was a famous line, like “To be or not to be.” One of those lines that was known by people who hadn’t seen a movie based on a Shakespeare play—much less cracked open a book of one of his plays and devoured it. No, Grant certainly did not devour Shakespeare.

So, what the hell what this about? she asked herself. He just threw that odd text message out there and left her hanging. It wasn’t the kind of joke that he would usually pull. He was too straightforward for that. If it actually was a joke, it was a bizarre one. One that wasn’t funny at all.

Did it have something to do with basketball? she wondered. The big college tournament during March?

Grant said he’d be hanging out with buddies today and watching some games. Laura imagined him in a living room full of guys lounging back on sofas and easy chairs, beers in their hands, hats on backwards or forwards or sideways, potato chips and pizzas on the coffee table. So it was in this scenario that Grant texted her the message? It didn’t make sense. Laura was as shaken as Caesar had been upon hearing the warning.

After ten minutes, there was still no answer from Grant in response to Laura’s text that asked him what he meant.

She sighed and shook her head to try to tumble those questions to the back of her mind. Better to focus on work and get the hell out of the office as soon as possible. Being there on a Saturday wasn’t anyone’s idea of fun. Still, she wanted to do a good job. Fun or not, she wanted to be proud of what she did.

Unfortunately, the work didn’t go as fast as she hoped. The proposal’s deadline was hard and fast, and so she and her office mates pushed to get the work finished on time.

Beware of Saturday overtime, she thought. Makes much more sense than that Beware the Ides of March nonsense. But she put her head down, figuring that loose thoughts weren’t exactly going to help her get the work done.

Thankfully, she was able to forget his text for the time being and instead focused on her job. It was a skill that had done her well in her career, to work efficiently and thoroughly and do some damn good work. This time, it was for a proposal that the firm was going to send out for more business. That meant self-preservation, since landing the large contract with the clothing company would lead to more work for Laura’s firm to develop a new advertising campaign for them. And more business was a good thing. Something she worked hard as hell for. Her success was proof of that.

Then the big boss called them all in the conference room. Once everyone was packed in—with standing-room only—he looked around and smiled. As that smile grew on his face, everyone knew the news was going to be good, and they’d be heading out soon. There was a collective sigh of relief.

“Great job, everybody,” the boss said. “This”—he held up a stack of papers that was the result of their work—“is a fucking gem. ’Scuse my cursing, but it is. It’s a polished, well-crafted gem. Lots of good ideas in there. They’d be idiots not to pick us.” He set the papers down on the conference table that had a gorgeous wood grain, then he looked back up at them. “And I’d be an idiot to not show my appreciation to you guys. Seriously. You’ve out-done yourselves on this one. It’s a Goddamned gem. This, as you well know, would be huge. It would be stepping up to the next rung on the ladder for us. Dealing more with the big guys.” He grinned a wide smile, and it was obvious to all around the room that he very much enjoyed the idea of dealing with firms larger than theirs. “But now, it’s out of our hands. We’ll send off our gem of a proposal to get printed up in a beautiful package and off it goes. Then it’s up to them to choose three firms to give them presentations. We all know we’ll be invited to that.” He paused again, relishing the moment. “But that’s for another day.”

Again, the boss beamed like a proud father as he took a long pause to look around at his employees and relished in the moment. Pride also swelled in Laura. It was a job well done. Well executed by the team working together to create an impressive result. What their boss called a “gem.” If having a gem wasn’t worth all that work, she didn’t know what was. It certainly made coming into the office on a Saturday worth it. It was that sweet feeling of completing a tall task. That sweet feeling of victory. Not victory like a rush of armies invading other countries to expand the empire. No, but this was the equivalent in the modern corporate world. Expanding the empire. Dealing more with the big guys. Taking them on. Laura loved working for a boss who felt the same way. It got her pulse racing a bit quicker. He wasn’t exactly man-meat material, though. Not a classical beauty. Not like Grant. Still, Laura was turned on by the spirit of her boss.

He cleared his throat and said, “Now get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see any of you until Tuesday. So you still get two days off. Enjoy them. Get some rest. Have some fun. And be ready to come back and kick some more ass. Now that this proposal’s done, we have to get back to the projects that we already have. And we need to hit ’em hard. Got it?”

“Got its” came from around the room as the employees broke their audience stances and began to move for the exit. Some of them had lit-up faces with the excitement of being done. Others wore expressions of bitterness at having to be in the office so long—and on a weekend.

“Finally,” Melissa said with a hefty exhale. She was standing next to Laura and said her gratitude softly so that only the people nearby would hear.

They walked out of the conference room and into the hallway, but Laura followed Melissa’s lead and spoke in a low volume, so as to not draw attention: “Hey, we worked our butts off. We did an amazing job on that proposal.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Melissa replied. “I’m just fried, and I’m so ready for a long line of wine glasses. Time to call the troops and hit a bar or three. Are you in?”

Laura imagined the scene again of Grant with his friends, all lounging about and watching basketball. That morning, he had told Laura that he still wanted to spend Saturday evening with her. But what kind of shape was he in now? After lots of beers, was he going to be a good date for the night?

“Let me check in with Grant first,” Laura said to Melissa. “We had tentative plans, but let me see first. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

Melissa shot her a smirk and said, “Oh, you married people. So much responsibility.” Her eyebrows raised. “But at least you get it regularly.”

Laura remembered that time, months ago, when Melissa was in Laura’s office and noticed the photos of Grant on her desk. “Very nice,” Melissa had cooed back then. “He’s a looker, all right.” She paid particular attention to the photo of Laura and Grant at a beach-side restaurant. They were tanned and happy in the sunshine. Toothy grins. Laura loved it for how relaxed and content they were during that vacation. Melissa, however, probably loved it more for how Grant’s arms looked as they bulged out of his light blue tank top. Laura was well aware of where her co-worker’s attention lay. After all, during that beach vacation, there was a good deal of attention directed toward her husband from the ladies. And a few men. She, in turn, had also turned a good many heads. She had to admit that she enjoyed the attention on them. They both worked very hard in the gym for their bodies. Let ’em eat it up, she had thought during that vacation. Let ’em fantasize. I’m the only one who gets to feast on this hunk of man-meat.

Back at the office, Laura took in stride Melissa’s comment about getting it regularly. It was simple jealousy. Melissa wanted to get a good wine buzz going and get hammered by a stud muffin. And, really, who could blame her? It made for a great way to spend a Saturday night. Or, well, any old night. Laura didn’t want to make a smart-ass remark back to Melissa.

Instead, Laura merely said, “At least you don’t have to deal with all the sweaty socks and beard hair on the sink. It’s not all a paradise.”

“Ah, I could manage that for what I’d get in return.”

* * * * *

I hope you enjoyed this teaser. If you want to read the rest of the story for free, go snatch it up at Smashwords before March 18!

Please note that the model on the cover image is from stock photography and is used for illustrative purposes only; inclusion on the cover is not meant to imply model’s involvement in the activities described in this story.